- Sep 6, 2022
- 75
- 29
- 8
( ┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈ ) From the beginning, from Figkit becoming Figpaw, Tallulahwing has struggled to tame the fire burning within her charge. Young, free, and assured of her place within the Clan as the forest's first deputy's kit, Figpaw has always exuded confidence. What she lacked in discipline, she more than made up for in spirit.
Watching the ginger she-cat fling herself from branch to branch in skillful, arcing leaps, Tallulahwing had felt that Figpaw would be the fiercest warrior this Clan had ever seen. Her hunting improved, gradually, and so did her battle skills -- all tied into her aerial grace, her ability to fly like the birds, invisible wings held aloft.
And now, now Tallulahwing creeps close to Dawnglare's den. The dreaded medicine cat is away, and she's astonished at the disheveled state of the den, herbs scattered and scraps of moss shredded from nests floating like feathers on the cold breeze. The torbie sharpens her gaze, past the gloom, and sees a sad orange shape tucked haphazardly into its nest.
Figpaw.
From Tallulahwing's angle, she can see the strange bent leg, the poultice and wrapping that try to hold it into place. She can see the despondent turn of her apprentice's shoulders, and the air is thick with grief, grief for a warrior who will never be.
But the torbie does not say that, and truly, she knows that the warrior she and Figpaw had wanted is gone, impossible... but that doesn't mean a stronger, sturdier warrior cannot survive in its place.
She mews, voice chipper and brittle, "Figpaw! It's past sunhigh. What are you doing sleepin'? I know I taught you better than that." She glances about the den again, resolution glowing flint-hard in her pale eyes. She will not let Figpaw wither away into nothing, no! Figpaw will be a better warrior for suffering this hardship, she will!
@FIGPAW
( WAITING AT THESE CROSSROADS FOREVER AND A DAY , AND NO GUY TO BUY MY SOUL )Watching the ginger she-cat fling herself from branch to branch in skillful, arcing leaps, Tallulahwing had felt that Figpaw would be the fiercest warrior this Clan had ever seen. Her hunting improved, gradually, and so did her battle skills -- all tied into her aerial grace, her ability to fly like the birds, invisible wings held aloft.
And now, now Tallulahwing creeps close to Dawnglare's den. The dreaded medicine cat is away, and she's astonished at the disheveled state of the den, herbs scattered and scraps of moss shredded from nests floating like feathers on the cold breeze. The torbie sharpens her gaze, past the gloom, and sees a sad orange shape tucked haphazardly into its nest.
Figpaw.
From Tallulahwing's angle, she can see the strange bent leg, the poultice and wrapping that try to hold it into place. She can see the despondent turn of her apprentice's shoulders, and the air is thick with grief, grief for a warrior who will never be.
But the torbie does not say that, and truly, she knows that the warrior she and Figpaw had wanted is gone, impossible... but that doesn't mean a stronger, sturdier warrior cannot survive in its place.
She mews, voice chipper and brittle, "Figpaw! It's past sunhigh. What are you doing sleepin'? I know I taught you better than that." She glances about the den again, resolution glowing flint-hard in her pale eyes. She will not let Figpaw wither away into nothing, no! Figpaw will be a better warrior for suffering this hardship, she will!
@FIGPAW
